I CAN'T FEEL YOU
by huddy-sparkles
Summary: House, Cuddy and Wilson after season 5. House/Cuddy angst and a trip to their past!
1. I can't feel you

_So, guys, this is the first fic I wrote in English. I have others in portuguese (I'm brazillian, by the way).  
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_This is my version of how I think House, Cuddy and Wilson dealt with the latest events of the end of 5x24.  
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_Constructive criticism is always, always welcome, of course, and I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes along the way. I'd love to hear your thoughts!_

**This first chapter if from House's point of view!**

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There I was about to fall flat on my ass when she reached for my shoulder in a vain attempt to support me. I knew she was there but I didn't quite feel her fingers were against my skin.

I heard her asking me if I was okay. For the position of her arm and shoulder, I could guess her left hand was on my cheek, her fingers stroking the side of it as I saw her eyes widen with concern. Or was it fear? Surprise? I couldn't tell.

I couldn't really feel her touch, but I was hearing more than I wanted at the time. Voices, noises, memories of the day before, of the weeks before, all invading my mind with such force it was impossible to have any awareness of what was going on inside that room… where I was trapped with that woman.

And then I heard her voice:

"House! Talk to me." She said in a soft and yet demanding tone. "What happened?"

As I look to my right, I could see the scary blond that had been tormenting me for the past couple of weeks. She was sitting on the desk laughing at me. I tried to look away, but she just kept switching positions.

"House! I'm here. Talk to me!" And there was that voice again. It was soft and I was pretty sure the woman who was saying it was holding my hands firmly between hers as she did. I looked down. Yes, she was holding my hands.

"House, I need you to focus, okay? Look at me and tell me: are you feeling any pain?"

"No." I simply said.

"Talk to me!"

"I don't… I can't feel it. I know you are holding my hands but I don't feel it."

"What do you mean? Are you experiencing numbness in your hands?"

"I can feel your hands but I can't… feel what you are doing."

And then there was silence. The voices in my head were just faint whispers now.

"I…" I began obsessively going over every detail that I remembered from the night before. I needed her to know to make sure I never forgot it. "I shut the door. I felt your skin against my fingertips, I felt your breasts against my lips, I felt the strong grip of your hands on my arms and your fingers running through my hair, I felt the softness of your voice as you told me everything was going to be okay. I felt the warmth between your legs as you let my name escape your lips for the last time. I felt everything. You were there, I could feel it."

As I was revealing all of my desires with a courage that maybe I would never have again – and I knew it – I began walking towards her until we stopped at the edge of her desk. I think that was too much truth in too little time judging for her silence afterwards and the look on her face. Then she began…

"Can you feel me now?" She said as she slid her left hand up and down my left arm.

"No."

After realizing that, I took my hands away from hers and motioned to head for the couch. I needed to be away from her. She wasn't anything like the other night. I wanted to runaway from there, but I didn't even have the strength to walk.

I think she knew what I was going to do even before I moved because she gripped my wrists and turned our bodies around so that I was now sitting on her desk. She positioned herself between my legs and reached for my hand that was gripping tightly at the edge of the desk.

"Don't run. Don't push me away. You are going to be okay, House." I could hear her voice trembling as she spoke.

She was holding me. Her left hand brought my head closer to her as I rest on her cleavage. Her fingers intertwined with mine as we held that desk for support. Like a hungry dog, I started snooping around trying too feel her again, her smell, the softness of her skin. It was all black and white to me now. I didn't find what I was looking for.

She gripped my hand once again very tightly and whispered in my ear as I buried my head between her breasts:

"I'm here with you. I love you."

I said nothing. I felt nothing. I know I was supposed to feel gratitude or at least a little warmer inside. I felt nothing. And as I opened my eyes, still resting the side of my face on her breasts, I spotted Amber with a stupid smile on her face as she nodded her head in an attempt to tell me that nothing I did would get me back to that night, that feeling. That I was really screwed.

"I can't be here, Cuddy." And that was the first time I actually said her name. I was coming to my senses, or at least as much as I could at that moment. "I need to be admitted somewhere, I don't trust myself anymore, I don't know who I am."

"Shh, don't say that."

"It's true. I don't know what's real anymore and worst of all, I don't feel anything. I'm used to being in pain all the time. I don't even feel that. I can't live like…"

"Hey, hey... listen to me."

"Stop doing that." The part of me that always resented human affection, which always looked away when someone said that because it was too painful to actually connect to someone, took over and I looked away. It was automatic.

"Listen to me. If you can't feel anything than it can't hurt you. Just listen to me, House."

And she continued:

"See this?" She tightened her grip on my hand and it made me look down at the desk. "See this desk? This is who you are. This is what I love."

And there she was, revealing my past to me. Reminding me of my love for her and her love for me.

"Feel this?" She reached for my right thigh and caressed it. "This is part of who you are."

And there she was revealing my pain.

And with that I felt her fingertips reaching for my chin and making me face her. Her face was a little red, her eyes were widened. Those grey eyes kept staring at me burning through my corneas. And I could see myself reflecting in her eyes. A distorted image of myself surrounded by that blue/grey ocean.

"See that? That's you. I can see you. I know who you are… and I'll never let you forget it."

And there she was revealing my future and telling me that I would have something to come home to.

"Where do you want to go? Just tell me and I'll take care of it." She continued.

And with that I watched her make the phone calls, her hand never leaving mine. It was too much. My mind kept playing those images of her smiling at me, opening her heart to me, making me feel things I didn't know I still could and I couldn't stand the reality of what was going on. I couldn't stand reality anymore.

"Do you want me to drive you?" She said in her best motherly tone.

"I can't be near you right now." I tried to sound as gentle as I could but it didn't matter. I could tell she was hurt but the words.

She swallowed and simply agreed with me. And then took me to Wilson's office.


	2. I hate myself for loving you

_First of all, a big thanks to my beta Aly, a.k.a. supershipper and from now on, also known as superbeta =)_

_I decided to turn this fic into a multi-chapter one. Hope you enjoy it!_

_Also, of course, I'd love to hear your thoughts, so be kind and leave a review. ;)_

**Cuddy will tell us more of the story now!**

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* * *

  
**

And there I was, taking that man by his hand to his best friend's office. The exact moment I left my office doors, reality came crashing down on me: he would be gone for a long time. I wasn't sure what was going to happen to him, damn, I wasn't even sure he would come back. God, I was losing it. At that exact moment I panicked and thanked God I wouldn't be the one driving him.

I tried my best to hide it all and had I not known he wasn't himself at the time, I'd be panicking even more at the thought of him reading my expressions. He didn't say anything, he didn't even look at me, just walked… like a man on death row. I guess in a way that really was a death sentence to him. And I couldn't do anything, I couldn't save him.

The walk to Wilson's office was longer that day than it had ever been. A part of me wanted it to last forever so I could be holding on to his hand, and another part wanted it to be over soon because watching him suffer was already unbearable to me. And seeing him numb like that was beyond impossible.

As we approached the door to Wilson's office, he let go of my hand and hid it in his pocket. With that, I think he was trying to hide his vulnerability and trying to save at least one bit of autonomy and control, which was about to be taken away from him for a long time.

I took a deep breath and knocked, this was going to be a terribly painful conversation. I had to be the one to initiate it, I owed him that much. Oh, the guilt!

I guess my face gave away what was about to happen there since Wilson immediately got up and came to us, escorting House to his couch. He was the one to break the silence:

"So you talked?"

"He told me… you need to…"

"She knows more than she should which is why she needs to leave."

God, that was too much! The tears were almost falling. I put together all the strength I had left and turned my back on House, giving Wilson a piece of paper with a name, an address, directions and a phone number. I also gave him one of my business cards and told him hesitantly:

"Tell them to call me for his medical records."

Wilson reached for my other hand and squeezed it as if he was trying to tell him I did well, House would be fine and that he would be in good hands.

I simply shook my head and let it escape my lips:

"Don't do this."

And I walked away.

Leaving his office, I had only one thing on my mind: I needed to hide for a minute to get myself together. So I walked, actually I ran, not so fast because I didn't want to get any attention, but as fast as my heels would allow me to do without making too much noise. The tears were falling; I wiped them away when no one was around.

I reached my office, locked the doors, closed the blinds, went behind the desk and just sat on the floor, my back resting on the drawers. Then I let the tears come. It was overwhelming. Grabbing a tissue box from inside one of the drawers, I tried not to let the tears completely ruin my makeup because my day wasn't over yet.

In my head I kept replaying all the details of my conversation with House right there just a few minutes before. What was I thinking? Maybe I said too much. Maybe I made things worse. God, he doesn't even want to see me. It was not like me to say such a thing as "I love you", especially to House. In ordinary circumstances I would never be the one to bring up that desk, and I did. I would never let him that close to me. I can even smell him on me now. And I said lots of things I shouldn't have. Once more, I let House's pain become my pain and it clouded my thinking. Oh, the guilt!

I took a deep breath, shook my head slightly trying to shake those thoughts off, and I accidentally banged my head on the drawer handle. It hurt a little. It had been almost twenty years since the first time I had banged my head against that desk. It left a bump I never forgot as I spent about two weeks being teased for that. House would look at me from across the hall or outside and we would share a look that said much more than words could. It was a look of two people who shared a secret: in that case, the cause of the bump in my head that later on would turn into a bump in my heart. In his heart.

I couldn't help smiling a little. No matter how much hurt there had been in those twenty years, it seemed like the memory of that night was intact. It was good, all pleasure, all us.

That's when the phone rang. I looked at the clock realizing I had been daydreaming for almost an hour. Jesus!

"Dr. Cuddy." I said, trying my best not to sound too nasally, it was in vain.

"Hi, Dr. Cuddy, it's Tammy."

"Hey, sweetie, how's everything?"

"Oh, everything is fine. Rachel has just fallen asleep. Are you okay? You sound…"

"Oh, just allergies, don't worry. Thank God she's sleeping. I need her well rested for later. By the way, I forgot to tell you, I'll be coming home soon to change and pick her up and you can take the rest of the afternoon off, okay?"

"Oh, so she's going to have some more time with her mom today, that's wonderful." Tammy had become a friend, more than a babysitter. She meant well, but every time she said that, my heart ached a little. I knew I wasn't spending as much time with Rachel as I should.

"Yes, two of our doctors here at the hospital are getting married today. Actually, you are more then welcome to come with us if…"

"Thank you, doctor Cuddy, but as much as I would love to because I love weddings and free food, I think I'm going to catch up on some papers for school and leave the two of you to enjoy each other's company." Yep, I knew what she meant.

"I'll be home in an hour, okay? You know that light green dress that Wilson gave her? Make sure it's ironed, I want her to wear it today. I think it should fit her perfectly now."

"Okay. I'm on it."

"Bye, Tammy."

The ride home was an internal war. I was anxious, nervous, concerned, sad, all together in a mix of emotions that was making me drive slower than usual. It's like I didn't want to get home. Too much to feel in too little time. I tried to ease my mind, turned the radio on, looked at my cell phone about seventeen times, sang, danced, cried a little and stopped at all the yellow lights.

I've always been the kind of person that, when some part of my life started falling apart, I started second guessing everything around me. And there I was, driving home, already resenting the time I would spend with my little girl. I was second guessing my value as a mother again. And although every time I saw her, my heart melted. Every time I left her, I felt relieved and guilty.

This would have to wait. Obsession freak Cuddy would have to shut the hell up now.

As I got home, I unlocked the door silently thinking Rachel might still be asleep. I was surprised to find her lying on Tammy's belly on the couch giggling so beautifully at Tammy who was playing peek-a-boo with her. She was perfection! Rachel was a picture of perfection and I was a mess. Sometimes I thought I didn't deserve her.

Being suddenly taken away by how much I had actually missed her, I just took her and gave her a kiss on her tummy. She giggled even more. Her face was a light shade of pink. She looked even cuter.

"I missed you, my little angel."

Then I turned to Tammy.

"I'll just take a quick shower and then you can go, okay?"

"Sure. In the meantime, I'll get Rachel ready."

Ten minutes later I was in my bathrobe, putting my makeup on and sending Tammy home. Rachel was the cutest thing in her light green dress. I was actually beginning to calm down.

* * *

I arrived late to the wedding, but just in time to see the bride walking down the aisle. Cameron was so beautiful. I could tell she was truly happy. I have to admit when she told me she and Chase were getting married I didn't put a lot of faith in it. I guess I thought Cameron would end up finding her way out of it. I was wrong. She actually chose to be happy. With all her issues with intimacy and her need to fix someone, she was actually doing something about it. I was happy for her. By the time the ceremony was over, my eyes were wet, for the third time that day. That was when I felt Rachel's little fingers on my face, calling me back to earth and telling me that I too had done something for myself.

She was so small and so perceptive. I just held her really close to me and she started biting on my jaw. Oh, the oral stage. I kind of missed mine.

Thirty seconds later, I took out my phone and called Wilson. I had definitely passed my oral stage. Now it was all about control.


	3. Everybody lies

_A big thanks to all of you who read it!  
_

_I've been getting lots of FF alerts and I'm quite happy about it! =)_

_And an even bigger thanks to my dear beta **supershipper**!  
_

_As always, reviews are much appreciated!_

**My dear Wilson will tell us more now, but rest assure it's aaaaaalll about Cuddy! ;)**

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I was on my way back from the psychiatric facility, but my mind was actually far away, replaying the latest events and trying to look for a sign of what had happened. How did it get to this point? Did I miss something? It was always hard when it came to House since he was the master of not letting people know what was really going on. At least with him there, we could throw things in each other's faces, analyze each other's behavior in our own unique way. Sometimes pretend to know the other one was lying and sometimes pretend we didn't. With him gone, I was left with that absence. And to a neurotic man like me, that was hard to deal with.

That was when my phone started ringing. It was Cuddy. Damn, this was going to be tough. I knew she wouldn't let me get away with any evasive answers and I knew I couldn't tell her everything House had told me. I had promised him that, even though I knew I was a terrible liar, and Cuddy wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.

"Hello."

"Hi, Wilson." She sounded anxious and I could tell she wanted to know if House was still with me in the car.

"He's gone, Cuddy, I'm coming back home now."

"How… how was everything?"

"The only way it could have been. Sad, intense… I think it was really brave of him to want to get himself admitted. It's out of our hands now."

"Did he… tell you anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"About…" She paused for a second, trying to see if I'd interrupt. "About what he's been experiencing lately."

"I already knew he was hallucinating. He had been seeing Amber for a couple of weeks." I knew what she wanted to know, but I promised House I wouldn't get into this subject with her. I was hoping she would believe he hadn't told me anything specific.

"I guess I just still can't believe it."

"Are you at the wedding?" I tried to change the subject.

"Yes. It was a beautiful ceremony. I wish you could have been here. I wish everyone could."

"I know, Cuddy."

That was when I heard Rachel babbling something at the phone.

"I guess she wants to talk to you, too." Cuddy said and I could picture her smiling now. Definitely in a more joyful spirit.

"How is she, by the way?"

"Beautiful as always and today looking like a princess wearing the light green dress uncle Jimmy gave her."

"Ah, the light green dress that was too big." I remembered, a little embarrassed for having guessed the wrong size.

"Oh, stop it! It fits her perfectly now."

"Take a picture of her, okay? I want to see her in it."

"I will… or… you could come and pick us up, congratulate Cameron and Chase and we can talk on the way home."

I knew Cuddy was having a hard time. I knew I was in no condition to talk about House now or engage in any weird games, which would only lead to her dragging things out of me. But I had to step up. Actually, the truth was I could never resist a woman in need. And there were two girls needing me right now. Rachel was too little to understand that she needed a father figure, a male influence, but she did, and Cuddy was too stubborn to admit she needed a friend. She was reaching out, opening a door, and I knew she wouldn't do it twice. So I agreed.

I was in a bad shape myself. Ever since House and I met and became friends – which happened instantly – he was the most constant thing in my life. I had been through three divorces and I had been there when Stacy left. I had watched him become the man he is today. I guess I could say our friendship, in some weird way, was responsible for a great part of who I am today.

Being the one with the least commitment issues, I actually managed to make some other friends over the years. A couple of them had told me more than once that they didn't understand why House and I stayed friends since people always witnessed him saying horrible things to me. One of them actually said that I enjoyed being treated like his bitch. It wasn't that. It wasn't that at all.

In his own deranged way, he was the most sincere and honest person I had ever met. He was the only one who had the balls to tell me the naked truth about my failed marriages and my life as a whole.

I admired him, I looked up to him. He had the guts to do lots of things I wish I had. And being near him was my way of feeling capable of doing such things.

I almost didn't realize I was already parking the car at the wedding reception. I tried to shake those thoughts away as I needed to walk in there pretending I had been called on a medical emergency. No one knew about House's condition and no one should until we heard back from the hospital. We weren't sure how long he'd be gone, we didn't know the extent of his illness and people would start gossiping if we told them anything now. It was time to put on my best poker face and face the party.

Later on, I found myself driving Cuddy and Rachel back home, we were all exhausted from the long journey that the day had been. We made small talk most of the way, I guess both trying to postpone the inevitable - a conversation about House.

Hours before, House had been sitting there right where Cuddy was and he had told me about what he hallucinated the night before. I was speechless because of something specific that he said and that was why I had to find a way to ask Cuddy about their past without her knowing why.

"So what now?" She finally said.

"Now we wait… to hear from the doctors."

"This is going to be extremely hard for him. And the worst part is he's going to have to go through it alone."

"You know him, even if he didn't have to, he would choose to." She said.

"Go through it alone, you mean?"

"Of course."

"I've had my share of friends having problems with drugs, with the police, even mental illnesses and although it is a lonely road to be traveled inside those facilities, the support of friends and family always helps. Maybe we can even visit him later on." I tried to comfort her.

"Oh, I'm not going. I know he wouldn't want me to. But you absolutely should go."

"I will, but what makes you so sure he won't want to see you?"

"You heard the things he said in your office. He won't want to see me." She sounded really hurt.

"He's an idiot."

"I never said otherwise."

"I guess he has always been like that, right?"

"I… guess…" She said trying to read my expressions. She was on to me. She knew I was trying to get some information.

"You don't guess. You know." I pushed it too far.

"Is there anything you want to ask me, Wilson?"

"No, I just… I've always wondered how the two of you met, that's all."

"And I'm sure after all these years, House never told you…" She was being sarcastic.

"He didn't."

"You are lying. And you suck at it." She was right.

"I know. I was just curious."

"If you really want to know… I was still an undergrad back at Michigan when I heard about Gregory House, the legend. He had been transferred from Johns Hopkins and all the girls talked about the handsome genius boy with the destructive behavior. He was himself a contradiction, something I had always been drawn to.'

"The girls would talk about him in the dorms, during lunch breaks, always gossiping about his latest prank."

"I observed him from a distance, never once let it escape my lips anything about me being attracted to him. That's the kind of girl I was: discreet, skilled and I knew what I wanted."

"I decided to audit his endocrinology class. I guess I just wanted an excuse to be near him and away from my girlfriends. Just a chance to get to know him. And I wanted to know so much more than he was letting on."

"We became friends really quickly. We would stay talking after class, occasionally meet at parties, but we had a weird dynamic."

"Our friendship was always a secret. If anyone asked, I'd say: "Yeah, I've heard of him." He would, as I came to know later, of course, tell people we were only sleeping together. No one believed it, because no one would believe I would actually be envolved with a guy like him."

"Wow! And here I thought college years were over."

"Shut up! Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Please, go on…"

"Well, there was something about him. He had a way of making me feel smart. Somehow everything got more interesting when we were studying together. Well, most of the time he was tutoring me."

"And so an endocrinologist was born."

"I know you miss him, Wilson, but stop analyzing me."

"I just thought that was worth mentioning since…"

"Don't you think I know? Don't you think I'm well aware of every little aspect of my life that has Gregory House's signature on it?"

Cuddy was almost screaming at me. She just burst out in anger. It definitely looked like she hadn't talked about that in ages. To my surprise, she calmed down quickly and continued the story. I could tell by her eyes she was enjoying this conversation, well it was more like a monologue at that point.

"So I was getting to know Greg, as opposed to the House everyone else know, or at least thought they did. We just had the most amazing conversations about everything. There even were a few times when it got very intimate and dramatic. One night, after burying ourselves in the books, I asked him about his father and why he'd never mentioned him. He told me some awful things, I'm sure you know most of them, but what hurt me the most was to hear that he hadn't forgiven his mom for enabling his dad's way of disciplining him. And I could tell by the way he was telling the story, that he actually loved her more than he could bear."

I was listening intently.

"You may find that hard to believe but it was 4 a.m. and we had drunk a lot of wine."

And she stopped.

"On that night he revealed something to me I could tell he hadn't shared with anyone. On that night, he stole a piece of my heart. But I guess I didn't know it back then. Just kept saying he was like the best male friend I'd ever had."

"So that's when you two…?"

"When we what?"

"Slept together, Cuddy!"

"Slept together? What makes you think we…?"

"Well, you know, giving how…"

"Greg hooked up with lots of girls back then and I had my share of fun as well. You know what med school is all about, right?" She didn't deny it.

"Oh, I certainly do. But what part of that story exactly is supposed to prove that he has always been a jerk?"

"We had good and bad days. One night, at a party, something happened and it changed things for me. Everyone was back at school after spring break. Well, almost everyone. I knew Greg had gone home to be with his family, but I didn't know if he had come back yet or not, so I was looking forward to seeing if he would be there."

"As it turned out, that was the night that left a stain in our relationship forever. A friend of mine called me up as I was talking to Mark, a guy I had been flirting with since the semester before. He was just so dreamy, but I never got to understand what went on between us. Sometimes I thought he was gay, others I was absolutely sure he wanted to do me. I was about to find out which when Lauren came to find me, she was a little short of breath, pushed me to the side and just said:

'Sorry, Lisa, but I thought you should know that Greg is upstairs and he's not well.'

"I got upstairs and found him laying on the bathroom floor completely drunk and with his pupils dilated.

'Oh, God, what did you take?'

'Don't tell me you've never seen a man drunk. You are such a nun, Lisa!"

'Stop being a jerk. I know you took something.'

'You can be such a bitch when you PMS.'

'You don't know what you're saying!'

'Of course I know. Look at the size of your boobs…' And he just motioned to grab my breast and got a slap in the face. His cheek became red with the shape of my hand.

'Get your ass off of the bathroom floor. I'm taking you away from here.'

'I'm not going anywhere with you! You are a stupid bitch! You can't even take care of yourself, how dare you try to mother me? Who do you think you are? Trying to give me a lesson in good behavior after getting knocked up by a guy you didn't even know the name.'

'You are out of your mind! Screw you!' And with that I left another mark on his other cheek and just walked out of there crying."

"I had never seen him yelling like that, trying to hurt me like that. Or anyone for that matter. He was kind to me. Nowadays, when I watch him in pain yelling at me and throwing things in my face, I know what he's capable of and I know why he does it. I know he's not well. When he told me last year that it was good I failed to become a mom because I sucked at it, it hurt me more to know that he was in more pain than he could take than what he said per se."

"Wait… knocked up?"

"I don't like talking about it, Wilson, but yes, I had an abortion and House helped me through it. I spent months in a really bad shape and he was very sweet. Never told anyone and when I started freaking out about what I had done he'd just comfort me with his rationalizations. It actually helped."

"Wow…"

She stopped for a second as I searched desperately for something to say.

"Sometimes I still think about it, you know, last year with all of my failed attempts to become a mom, I started thinking I was being punished somehow for what I had done in the past."

"Oh, God, Lisa, please tell me you don't actually believe that."

"Not anymore." That was when she turned her head to Rachel who was sleeping like an angel in the backseat. Cuddy was smiling now.

"Well, anyway… the night of the party I went back to my dorm and just cried myself to sleep. He was the only person who knew about that and I had told him that in confidence. The moment he started throwing all of it in my face was the moment I started second guessing my decision and freaking out all over again. It had only been two months.

"The next day I woke up with a terrible headache and still alone in my room, since my roommate wouldn't be back for two more days. I ran into House's roommate during lunch and he just started making excuses for him:

'Hey, Lisa. Feeling better?'

'I'm fine, Mike'

'You know Greg is not, right?'

'I really don't care.'

"He knew we were really close friends and of course he must have heard the fight because I remember the moment I walked out, I saw him coming into the bathroom.

'I just thought I'd let you know that he's not well. He didn't tell me much but I guess things weren't easy at home during the holidays. He's on antidepressants and you saw how drunk he was.'

"Mike was playing with my guilt. With that, he left me in the cafeteria, and I thought of going to check on Greg about a thousand times. Never did it though. I couldn't let him hurt me like that. He would have to come and apologize to me. But of course this never happened."

"Wow..."

"Is that all you can say?"

It was, really.

"You want to tell me something, don't you?" There she was again trying to find out what I knew.

"I… no, no."

"I'll just wait here until you start talking."

"House… told me about what he hallucinated yesterday."

"And are you going to tell me?"

"He just said he thought you had helped him detox from the vicodin." I was playing safe, trying to find out how much she knew.

"I know."

"It's getting late, Cuddy, I really should go." We were parked in front of her house for a couple of hours talking while Rachel slept soundly.

"You know something that you don't want to tell me, Wilson."

"And the two of you are going home now and while Rachel sleeps, you are going to stop obsessing over this. I gave them your card as you asked me to and they should be calling you soon. Let me know, okay?"

"This conversation isn't over, you know that, right?"

"Bye, dear."

So I went home, almost sure she hadn't told me the whole story. Truth was I hadn't told her the whole story either. That's what we did when it came to House: we lied.


	4. Alone

_Thank you guys for reading and reviewing! I'm having such a great time writing this fic!_

_A special thanks to my beta supershipper!_

_**Warning: sexual content! If you are under 18, run, run for the hills!!**_

**And we're back to Cuddy's point of view!**

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At last, it was time to rest. The body, of course, not the mind. So I opened the door to my house with Rachel in my arms. This was going to be a long night and I was glad I had her with me.

As I got to my bedroom, I laid her on my bed. Then I changed into a nightgown and joined her to see if I could sleep as peacefully as she was.

I had no luck. I just laid there on my side and caressed one of her arms with my index finger. She grabbed my finger and squeezed it, not letting go. My heart always melted when she did those things. She needed me and she was showing it. Being so young, she could show as much neediness as she wanted. And I just stayed there watching her sleep.

It hadn't even been twenty four hours since House had left, and the conversation I had just had with Wilson had made me travel back in time, reliving things that had been kept hidden for a long time.

Truth was I never allowed myself to thing about those times. Not since a couple of months after House and I lost contact and especially after he came to work for me.

And judging by Wilson's little inquiry before, he knew something about what House had hallucinated. What I didn't understand was what did it have to do with how we met.

What I hadn't told Wilson was that House and I actually spent two months not speaking to each other after what happened at the party. And as time passed by, I realized he would be graduating soon and maybe I'd just never see him again. As the memory of it all came back to me, I realized the same thing was happening again. I let House leave without telling him so many things I should have told him. What if he could never practice medicine again? Where would that leave us? Would we lose contact again? And I felt the tears coming.

And there I was, crying, holding on to my little girl's hand. Now my fingers were holding on to hers tightly. I couldn't tell who needed whom anymore. Actually I could. I was in way worse condition and as the ghosts of Christmas past came invading my mind, I needed to hold on to something. And I was relying on my little baby girl. It didn't last three minutes. I let go of her little hand, careful not to wake her and decided to put her to bed. She was too young to handle it. She didn't deserve that and I sure wouldn't want to raise a girl who would feel responsible for other people's feelings and feel guilty about it for the rest of her life. I knew better than that. So I put her in her crib in her bedroom and came back to bed alone.

Alone… alone in my bed… again.

My mind traveled back to the last weeks in college with House. And to that night. To that one night I had never forgotten.

It had been another weekend spent at school, preparing for the final exams. Thank God the semester would soon be over. Actually, when it crossed my mind that day, it also reminded me, again, that Greg would be leaving. He would be graduating and we still weren't talking. I sighed.

That night, I had gone to bed early, in need of a good rest to face the rest of the week.

It was 11 p.m. when I was awakened by the sound of a knock on my door. I didn't get up. And they knocked again. And again.

"God! It's Saturday night! Why aren't people out having fun?" I got up really cranky and sleepy.

When I opened the door, I saw Greg.

I wanted to say something, God, there was so much on my mind! I had missed him, but I was also still pissed off at him. I wanted to start a fight, I wanted to slam the door in his face, I wanted to ask him how he had been. I didn't have time to do any of that.

He just leaned in and kissed me. A soft, lingering kiss. His hands didn't even touch me, just his lips.

When his mouth left mine, I shivered.

"Why?" That was all I could manage to say.

"I'm leaving in two weeks."

"I know…" I looked at him, and I knew he could see how much I wanted him. I could see how much he wanted me too, so I took one of his hands and leaned in to give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. It was my way of showing that it was okay.

Seconds later, he pulled me into a deep and urgent kiss, closing the door behind him with a kick. His grip on my waist was so tight he was almost lifting me off the floor. I was so caught up in the moment that I only realized what was happening when I heard half of my things falling off my desk. Books, class notes, lots of pens and a lamp. He made a mess. But the mess on the desk was nothing compared to the mess in my life the next few weeks. Oh, who am I kidding? The next few years…

I didn't say anything. I couldn't find the words anyway.

We started undressing each other in such a rush. I can vividly remember the way his chest felt against my palms for the first time. It was really dark in there, and I was getting to know his body with just my hands. I don't remember all of it, just flashes, little things he did.

I tried to get to his pants and undo them. I couldn't finish the job as he had just managed to take my bra off and was running his beard over my skin and placing kisses all over my chest. When I felt his teeth, I lost track of what I was doing and just fell back on the desk.

I remember the teasing. He teased a lot. The son of a bitch thrived on hearing me moaning and begging and telling him how I wanted it and where I wanted it. And I was never one to hold back on the moaning, I loved how turned on he looked every time he heard me.

As much as it was passionate and urgent, it was sweet. He was sweet. Having always been a very good observer, it was like he knew what I wanted next. We had never kissed before, we hardly ever touched, but that night, it was like we already knew all there was to know about each other's bodies.

And then there was the feeling of his beard against the skin of my stomach after his mouth had left my breasts just as he took my pants off in one quick motion. My pajama pants and my panties, desperate to taste me. I remember the feeling of the cold air hitting me and even better the warmth of his tongue when it touched me. I gripped the edges of the desk with both hands as he kept licking me like a hungry dog. Sometimes he stopped just to tease me and I just wanted to slap him in the face.

He would look up at me and grin, he was loving that. And I was sliding down on the desk, so desperate. When it became too much, I sat up and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. He slid his hands down and just kept teasing, slipping a finger inside of me as I tried to undo his pants. And there it was, his cute boxers. When my hands touched him for the first time - a feeling I also remember really well - he gasped and kissed me forcefully. I fought the urge to say something about his size, knowing I'd never hear the end of it. He slid his fingers out and pulled me into his embrace as he lifted both of my legs and wrapped them around his waist.

'Not so fast.' I said, not stopping the kiss for one second.

'Don't tell me you don't want that.'

'Oh, I want that. But I want _that_ first.'

'I knew that was your thing.'

I must have blushed, but I was so hot already, it probably didn't show. I sat him down on my chair, kneeled and just went for it.

I remember his hands on my hair turning my head to the side as he looked down, wanting to see what I was doing. I felt his thumb caressing my cheek as he tried to form some words to express what he was feeling, words I never understood.

At a certain point, he made me stop. He pulled me for a kiss and, as I stoop up, he slid his hands up my thigh and started teasing me again with his fingers as he licked my breasts. Getting closer to him, with one leg on each side of the chair, I was about to take his hands away from between my thighs and allow him to enter me.

'Not here.'

I remember the tone of his voice when he asked me to turn around and bend over on the desk and the exact moment he started thrusting into me. I closed my eyes and just focused on the feeling of his hands and their grip on my hips. He was anything but gentle, showing with the speed of his thrusts and the tightness of his grip that he wanted all of me, wanted to be as deep as he could.

That's when I hit my head on the desk. Damn it, it hurt! I laughed a little, but since we were so close we just couldn't stop. That was when he placed his hand between my forehead and the desk so that I wouldn't hit it again and just kept thrusting into me. The pressure was building up and I felt Greg's mouth travel up from my neck to my ear. I could feel his fast breathing as he whispered to me:

"I want to…. hear you… Lisa."

God, I remember the urgency of his voice! And his teeth on my neck as he came inside of me. His hands sliding down my body until he grabbed my waist, still panting, and told me to get down from the desk. We went to my bed and slept without saying another word.

The next morning, I remember leaving the room before he woke up and doing whatever I could so that I didn't have to run into him. I was hoping he wouldn't be there when I got back. I was actually avoiding seeing him, I had no idea what to say. But the feeling stayed with me, under my skin, throughout the next two weeks, maybe more.

Almost twenty years later, I can still remember the feeling of having him inside of me.

That feeling kept me company through lonely and hard times. It was not about the sex, but about the intimacy, and I wondered many times if House felt the same, if he still remembered that night and sometimes I punished myself for not having the courage to face him the next day.

So, with my mind far, far away and one hand inside my panties, I drifted off to sleep after one of the longest and loneliest days of my life with only one thing on my mind: I had to know what Wilson knew about House, I needed to know if the fantasy that had stayed under my skin for decades had stayed under his as well.


	5. The naked truth

_Thanks for reading, people! And thanks for the reviews! =)_

_And a big thanks to my beta supershipper!_

_I think I'm getting to the end of it, maybe two or three more chapters, we'll see._

**Here we go again with Cuddy telling the story.**

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Saturday, Cuddy's house

People who say that ignorance is bliss obviously don't know what it's like to be a woman obsessing about the past. This is why I was there, again, talking to Wilson.

I got straight to the point:

"I need you to tell me what House told you."

"I told you, he just said you helped him detox." Wilson repeated.

"You are lying. I'm doubling your clinic hours this month."

"Oh, that's very mature."

"Wilson… I am asking this as a friend. I really need to know."

"You know, this is getting counterproductive. For years I have been caught in the middle, trying to talk some sense into House about you and vice versa. I am tired of it. You want to know things you shouldn't know! We shouldn't be here talking about any of that. We should be waiting to hear from the doctors and thinking about going to…"

"You know… House isn't here. So you are stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what he told you. I'm really tired of not knowing. You've been telling me things for months about how he feels about me. But I'm starting to think everything only happens in his head, or maybe yours, because I never see anything and…"

"All right, but you have to promise me - and this is really serious - not to say anything to House."

"Oh, relax, whatever it is he has told you, he knew you'd end up telling me. He knows you can't keep a secret."

"I'm moved by your faith in me." he deadpanned.

"Don't be a baby. Come on."

"Don't be so sure about that, Cuddy. He's not himself. I doubt he told me those things knowing I'd tell you, unlike other times."

"You spent months being a pain in the ass, pointing out that I should do something about House and me. I'm tired of the games, I need to know the truth."

"You ignored the truth for so long, now you are interested in the product of House's subconscious?"

"It doesn't get more truthful than that."

He sighed.

"You know there is such a thing as too much truth."

"Oh, dear God… sometimes I think it's easier to talk to House. At least he would never say that."

"You are out of your mind. You know, Cuddy, I already took House to Mayfield, do you want me to get you admitted as well?"

"Yeah, I must be out of my mind thinking you'd be like you always were. House hasn't been gone two days and you are already lost without him!"

Wilson was getting pissed of at me. That whole conversation was so frustrating. I know we were both mourning, and this was the best we could do to cope with everything, but I was getting pissed off at him too.

"I give up! He said that you spent the night at his place, threw out all the Vicodin bottles he had stashed in his apartment and in the morning he didn't let you leave, so you… slept together."

He stopped for a second, but I didn't interrupt, knowing there was more.

"He also said that you had a couple of conversations throughout the night, and that you told him that you had always thought he was an interesting lunatic – I believe that's how he put it – and that's why you audited his endocrinology class back at Michigan. This is why I asked you about how the two of you met. I wanted to find out if it was true."

"There, that's all… and I hope you respect what I said before about not telling him since you…"

My hand traveled up to my mouth and I could guess, by the look on his face, that I didn't look well…

"Cuddy, are you okay?"

"God! Are you…. Are you sure he used those words?"

"I… I don't know, I mean… you know he's confused and…"

"Don't joke about this, I'll be right back."

I ran into my bedroom as he walked into the kitchen to get me a glass of water.

I searched my bottom drawer desperately for proof that I hadn't gone insane as well. And I found it. The old, stained piece of paper. I was so afraid to read it again. That letter had never left my hands; I never had the courage to send it. So I kept it, hidden under piles of clothes and old college books. Hidden in a little place inside my heart that I never visited anymore.

I decided to read it again, my hands were shaking.

"_Dear Greg,_

_When you came into my bedroom the other night, you said you couldn't leave Michigan with the night of the party being the last thing I remembered of you. You said you were not that guy and that you needed me to know that. I've always known. Now that you are leaving, I feel like I need to confess something. How we met… it wasn't by accident. I audited your endocrinology class two years ago because I've always thought you were an interesting lunatic. And that lunatic became my best friend. Thank you for an amazing night!_

_Love,_

_Lisa."_

As I finished reading, I was crying my eyes out. How did he know?

And Wilson came back.

"What's going on, Cuddy!"

"He… how could he…?

"What's that paper?"

I hid the paper in my back pocket.

"Never mind. You… you should go. I'll be okay."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell what this is all about."

"Wilson! House knows something he shouldn't know."

"Well, that makes two of you, and as for me, I'm still clueless."

God! It was getting worse by the minute. I just sat there on the floor and started telling the story.

"I didn't tell you the whole story yesterday. About two weeks before House left Michigan, we slept together. He left before I woke up the next day and we spent two weeks sharing looks around school, both too proud to say anything. We never talked about it."

"So I wrote him a letter. I had a couple of things I wanted to say, but I never had the guts to give it to him. And he left. Not knowing how I felt."

"And what does it have to do with what I told you before?"

"In that letter…" I was close to tears again. "In that letter I confessed to him that I audited his endocrinology class, that us meeting was not a coincidence. And I said that I did it because…" I sighed. "Because I thought he was an interesting lunatic."

"Oh, my God! You don't think…"

"Unless he's psychic, he knew what was on that letter. I don't know how. I mean, I wrote it the night before his last day there. I never gave it to him, we didn't even say goodbye."

"Cuddy… I'm speechless. And you never talked after that?"

"I guess I just kept waiting for him to come and talk to me, apologize, give me a sign that he wanted to see me again. I didn't have the guts to be the one to initiate that conversation. I spent another couple of years at Michigan and heard about him from time to time, but we lost contact. What we felt for each other… I mean, what I felt for him never got a chance to develop into something bigger. And with him gone, I had a thousand reasons not to do anything about it and just one to do something. I never did. And almost twenty years later… well, you know the rest of the story."

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean? I can't do anything. I can't just go there and demand an explanation. And worse, if he knew all this time, why didn't he do something about it. It's pretty clear to me that he had no interest at all in…"

"Oh, my God! Listen to yourself, woman! After what I told you, how can you still not be sure about his feelings for you!?"

"I'm not naïve, Wilson. I'm just saying he was aware of the facts and never did anything about it."

"Neither did you! And you have a different situation now. You are not in college…"

"Damn right we are not. We work together, things are twice as complicated now!"

"Aren't you tired of this, Cuddy?"

"Of what, Wilson?"

"Of the games, of hiding yourself behind your suits and pumps, putting your career…"

"It's not that! I'm a mother now, Rachel needs me, I can't just forget about my life and throw myself in House's arms as if we were meant to be or something. You know as well as I do that this is only going to end bad and I need to protect her."

"OH, MY GOD! Don't bring your daughter into this. This has nothing to do with her. This is about you being 14 years old when it comes to House and…"

"Yeah, because he's very mature when it comes to me."

"Let me finish! The suits and the pumps help you get the confidence to control him and do your job, but deep inside you are a schoolgirl waiting for the boy to ask you to the prom - a boy who will never ask you to the prom, but who has built a whole life around you. Are you going to keep waiting for the invitation or are you going to join him in the life he already made with you?"

"You are out of your mind! You've been watching too many chick flicks, Wilson!"

"And you are deflecting, you are scared as hell! Because if you make yourself available, if you lower your guard and he hurts you, he'll destroy the fantasy, the gigantic fantasy that you two have going on between yourselves. You have to make a choice here. You can either go talk to him, and I'm not saying you need to declare your love or anything like that. Just open a door, lower your guard, make yourself available. After what he went through, how much more proof do you want that you are what he needs? Or you can keep feeding the fantasy and hiding behind it, to see if it'll grow even more and become so painfully big that everything will happen by itself and you won't have to commit. It's your choice!"

"God, you can be annoying! Are you done?"

And that's when the phone rang.

"Dr. Cuddy." I answered my cell phone.

"Dr. Cuddy, this is Dr. Nolan from Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital."

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything is under control. I'm calling you to ask for Dr. Gregory House's medical records, I was told to call you."

"Sure, I'll have them on your desk by Monday morning."

"Thank you, Dr. Cuddy."

"How's he doing?" I asked.

"He's settling in. It takes a while to get used to the hospital routine, but he's okay so far."

"That doesn't sound like him at all." I was concerned.

"So far we can say he's really depressed and still hallucinating. As soon as we get his medical records, we'll start a complete psychiatric evaluation. For now, we want to give him some time to adjust to life here."

"Dr. Nolan, adjusting is not something you'll see Dr. House doing anytime soon."

"You seem to know him really well, Dr. Cuddy. Why don't you bring me the files in person and we'll talk about his condition?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Nolan. That won't be possible. I'll ask Dr. Wilson to take them to you and you can talk to him. If you need to talk to him, his number must be on Dr. House's papers, he was admitted under his name."

"Okay, but if you ever want to ask me anything, you have my number."

"Thank you, Dr. Nolan."

"What did he say?" Wilson asked.

"That House is still hallucinating but he's been adjusting very well."

"Adjusting? He's depressed."

"He also said that."

And I stopped for a second.

"He… never mind."

"What, Cuddy? What did he say?"

"He asked me if I could deliver the files in person and… well he doesn't even know who I am. House was admitted under your name. I mean…"

"You should go."

"I'm not going."

"Give me one good reason."

"I don't want to. You are taking the files and that's final."

"Cuddy, House is not well. He lost track of who he is. And you… you are a huge reminder of little parts of his story. You need to make yourself present. You need to show him that you know who he is. We both need to do that. I know they won't let us visit him all the time, but if you have the opportunity to go and talk to the doctors and maybe even talk to him, I think you should. If you keep acting like you don't care, he's going to feel it at some point and he's going to believe it."

"I'll have the files ready for you Monday morning and you can have the afternoon off to take them to Mayfield, talk to the doctors and do all of this you just said. But it won't be me."

___

Wilson left. I was emotionally exhausted. He must have been as well. But I needed him out of there. I needed time to prepare for the journey ahead of me and I needed to do it alone. I had a letter to deliver.


	6. Relief

_Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for reading it and for the kind reviews._

_A big special thanks to Jules Griffith, who beta the chapter and helped me out with a few ideas. =)_

_A/N: I've been trying to stay in character with this fic. I feel writing from the characters point of view gives me more freedom to express what I think they feel, more then what they are likely or not to say and do. And I think what we feel and don't express is the most interesting part. But I always see myself verging on getting out of character. I'd love your thoughts on the subject._

**House will be the one telling the story now.**

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It was my third day inside Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital and I hated it. I became a doctor so that I'd never have to be a patient; I would control life. But here I was, all of it taken away from me, in the worst place I could possibly be - a psychiatric hospital.

The only thing I had left was a plain, wooden cane that barely eased the pain.

I had my drinking, playing music, solving puzzles, making Cuddy miserable, and playing pranks on Wilson.

I had my apartment, my hiding place. Most of the time it was a mess with empty glasses all over the place, no food and painkillers stashed everywhere. An image of myself.

At first, I had an extra prescription or two, just for the really bad pain days. As time passed by, the fear of being in more pain than I could bare turned precaution into obsession, turned a bottle of whiskey and one of vicodin into a full liquor cabinet and countless bottles of painkillers, even morphine, all hidden, in a vain attempt to deny what was happening. (By the way, I hated when people said that.)

I was very well aware of what was going on.

Perfectly conscious of what I was turning into.

It was never about denial.

Now, the only cane I have left is the wooden one; but as it turns out, was the one I needed the least.

Yet, I wasn't completely alone. I had a blonde bitch who never left my side. These last couple of days when reality was taken away from me (I can't even say it was the other way around), my only contact with the outside world was when it was time to take my meds. Of course, they were lowering the dosage, and it was barely enough.

No relief came from it.

The pain in my leg was almost non-existent though. I was still in a numb state of mind, not quite sure of what was real or not. The only thing I knew for sure was that this was a really strange environment. When everything feels strange to you, you start looking for familiar things. The only familiar thing I had there was my body and pain. I was almost longing for the excruciating pain in my leg. No pain, no relief. Just angst.

I thrived on relief. Pain, pills, more pain, more pills was a dynamic my body (and my mind) knew all too well. Along with the leg pain, the painkillers took away all other kinds of feelings, denied my condition, and hid my self-destructiveness for a few moments.

This is exactly why I have always been scared to detox. No pain, no relief.

The truth was I wanted to be pain free, but it had been so long that I had no recollection of what was life without pain. I wanted to enjoy life, but life for me was seeking relief. My pain, my meds, my relief, my control. I never needed anything or anyone else. Pain and pleasure reminded me that I was alive every single day of my life.

That's what was going on. I was being tormented by Amber and her suicidal ideas that I'd never leave this place alive. Sometimes I drifted off to a hiding place inside of my mind, looking for familiar things, trying not to listen to her. That's when flashes of the latest events often replayed inside my head.

As I brushed my teeth that night, I saw a lipstick stain on my cheek. Again. I tried to wash it off. Soap, shampoo, fingers, nails scratching it. Nothing helped. I punched the mirror. My hand bled, the stain disappeared.

Relief.

I felt a little better. Endorphins bought me a couple of minutes of sanity.

Until the next time. The hallucinations were getting worse by the minute.

When I came back into the bedroom, Amber was there lecturing again.

"Oh, God, you're back," I said, tired of looking at her.

"Oh, I see what you did there. You figure since you like to be called God, I'd like it too. That's very clever," she said mocking me.

"Jesus…"

"Actually, I prefer God. And you know, you'd be less tormented if you tried to mingle. Maybe you'll find a new friend. Where better to find a highly neurotic person to annoy?"

"Why would I want another crazy friend? I have you," I told her with a fake smile.

"Yeah, I'm the one who just broke a mirror and cut myself. I'm clearly the one with problems here…"

"Stop talking about yourself as if you were not me!" I yelled.

"Okay. I'm you. I acknowledge that. From now on, I'll do everything you do. Time for bed?" She said got in the bed, under my sheets.

I don't know what kind of sick game my subconscious was trying to play. All I know is, that night, I slept in the woman's arms. It felt good. I knew it wasn't real, but that didn't matter at the time. I felt like an unprotected child, and I had spent my whole life working to avoid that.

The next thing I remember was waking up really late and sexually charged to a knock on the door.

I woke up (did I?) a little scared and not knowing what was going on. I was in a hospital. And… the doors probably didn't lock. And I was wearing a shirt and pajama pants and… my hand was hurt and… Cuddy was standing at the door?

"Cuddy? What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you," she said in a soft tone.

"I don't want to see you. You have a hospital to run." I said pushing the covers up, really embarrassed that she was seeing me like this.

"It's Sunday."

"Then you have a daughter to take care of."

"I brought her with me."

"Then you shouldn't leave her alone. This place is full of loonies, you know?"

"She's not alone and I'm not going anywhere."

"Amber is not here, which can only mean…"

"Shut up and listen to me."

"No! Stop it! It's bad enough I have to spend twenty-four hours suffering inside this place. You… you mess with my head! You were there to take care of me and then you weren't. I can't be near you. I don't want you worrying about me; I don't want you taking care of me."

Did I really say those things? Truth was I thought she was a dream.

"I'm not here to take care of you. If I though I could do that, I'd have done it years ago. I just came to give you something."

"Don't bother. I don't even know if you're really here. And that means either two things: if you are real and you have something to tell me, I'll forget it soon enough. And if you are not, if you are just my subconscious trying to tell me another lie, then…"

"It wasn't a lie. You know it wasn't a lie!"

"See, you are doing it again. Being compassionate and maternal and… God, get out of my head!" I was screaming. Turned my face away from hers and faced the window in the bedroom.

"I'm not in your head! If I were, I wouldn't be bringing you this." And with that, she took a piece of paper from her pocket and shoved it in my face.

"What… what is…?"

"You don't know I know you know about this letter. Therefore, I can't be a hallucination."

"What kind of sick twisted logic is that?"

"Your logic, House. Your logic. The same logic that made you hallucinate about something that was already on your mind. A secret you already knew. Though I have got to say, I have no idea how…"

"How… how much do you know?" I was hiding my face from her. I felt naked before her eyes. It was okay telling her I had hallucinated about us having sex, but her knowing about her confession hours before was unbearable to me. I just didn't know what to do with it.

"That you heard me confess that I had audited your endocrinology class and that I thought you were an interesting lunatic."

"Wilson…"

"You knew he would tell me." Truth was I was too numb during the journey to Mayfield to think about what Wilson might do with that information.

"House, listen to me and remember those words. It's only interesting being a lunatic out there. In here it's not. It's just pain and pills and therapy. You need to get well. I need… we all need you back home."

I didn't say anything. We spent what felt like hours staring at each other.

"You said you came to tell me something. Was that it? You wanted to tell me you know about my fantasies and are ready to use it against me next time you need something done at the hospital?"

"God, you are crazy!"

"That's kind of why I'm here, isn't it?"

"That's not what I meant, I'm sorry, I…"

"But it's what you are thinking, right? You must be drowning in guilt to have driven all the way over here and you sure must pity..."

"This is not about pity."

"Of course it is. Or are you going to tell me it is about hope and faith? You think this place is going to put me in line, make me a better man? Maybe one suitable for the dean of medicine and…" I was being mean to her on purpose. I wanted her out of there.

That's when I felt it. Her hand… her soft hand… slapping my cheek with all the strength she had.

"That was to show you I don't pity you one bit. I came here to do something I should have done decades ago. Give you this letter. It's yours. Read it, keep it, toss it in the trash, make a paper plane, burn it, do whatever you want. But know that it belongs to you. And if I were you, I'd think twice before forgetting about the person who deserved to have read this letter all those years ago. I know you miss him somehow. I know I do. I'm not going to use anything against you. You are free and clear. But know that I'll be back in my office waiting for you to barge in and make me pretend to regret the day I hired you. I'll be waiting for you to call me at three in the morning pretending to be asking for permission to do a brain biopsy. I'll be waiting for you to come back and pretend to avoid me, pretend to hate me. I promise you'll find me pretending to be only your boss."

And she started stepping back slowly, eyes locked with mine. I couldn't tell if she was waiting for me to say or do something or if she just didn't want to leave. My mind was racing. I could still hear voices telling me to stop her, telling me to send her away. Flashes of her in bed with me, what she had said and done.

So I watched her leave, as I had done many times before, always with the feeling of not having had enough of her. That had become another addiction, watching Cuddy leave, watching her hips swaying telling me so long and never goodbye. That scene right there was the thing most close to home I had experienced inside that hospital and the tight red skirt she was wearing… I knew she put it on thinking, well, knowing it would make me feel better.

A few minutes later, I left the letter on the bed and went to the bathroom to find an image of myself reflecting on the broken mirror. A face sliced in what looked like puzzle pieces and a red stain on my cheek. That time it wasn't a lipstick one, neither it was a hallucination. It was just… relief.

For a brief moment.

A reminder of what I had to fight for in there. A reminder that this would be the most difficult puzzle I'd ever had to solve. If I couldn't do it, I wouldn't just be failing, I'd be dead.

I went back to the window just in time to see Cuddy's car leaving. I couldn't even begin to try to explain what I was feeling at the time. It had all been too much. Of course I didn't have much time to try and figure anything out, since Amber started singing…

"Ops, I did it again…"


	7. Epilogue

_Nooow it's done!_

_I wasn't really happy about last chapter being the last. Now it's complete. =) Hope you enjoy!_

_Couldn't have done it without Aly's help!  
_

_As always, thank you for reading it and for the kind reviews!_

* * *

**_Six months later_**

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Amber and no, I'm not dead. Hallucinations don't die. Although I think in a way I kind of did. But never mind. All you need to know is that I was sent on my way when I was no longer needed by countless bottles of Haloperidol - an army to defeat me. They succeeded. I'm here to tell you what happened after House went back to PPTH.

It was on October, 29th that Lisa Cuddy got a call from Dr. Nolan, saying House was being released. And, as of that moment, her life was turned upside down.

"No. No… Not this one... Definitely not. Crap! I'm late!"

"Mommy, mommy, mommy." Her one year old wanted attention so early in the morning

"Where are you, sweetie?"

When you have a one year old at home you need to be prepared to play hide and seek anytime of day. Or any other game for that matter.

"Rachel, where are you?"

Cuddy could hear her giggling. Then saw a pile of clothes moving on the bed and her cute little head appearing in the middle of it.

"Are you packing to go somewhere?" Little Rachel asked.

"No, sweetie, I'm just trying to figure out what to wear. Want to help mommy out?" She asked, realizing that she had buried her daughter under a pile of clothes. Nervous didn't even begin to cover how she was feeling that morning.

Lisa Cuddy spent the whole day looking at her office doors. She had offered to pick House up from Mayfield as Wilson was out of town in a conference, but he had refused. She hadn't even talked directly to him. The doctor who had called to tell her he'd be released said she shouldn't worry because everything was taken care of.

So she waited… and waited… then waited a little more. And felt stupid every time she looked at the door, every time she retouched her makeup. Every time she looked at the clock.

She stayed at the hospital for as long as she could. When guilt took over, she went home to her child.

She laid in bed awake for a while, trying to figure out what to do. Had House gone home? Why hadn't he returned to the hospital? Those six months he had spent away had been hard on her but, as time passed, life adjusted itself, and it sure were easier on her job and her life not to have him around. Easier, but no fun at all. If it weren't for Rachel, it would be an empty life.

The truth was she tried desperately not to think about him, not to get ahead of herself and start speculating what would happen after he came back. Had those six months erased the power of her discovery about the past? Of the things she had said to him?

Like a good obsessive woman, when Lisa Cuddy didn't know what to do, she started speculating, trying really hard to prepare herself for all kinds of possibilities that might come her way. It was highly neurotic and emotionally exhausting.

But that's when she usually got the courage to do things, like show up at House's doorstep unannounced just to ease her anxiety and calm her heart.

Tammy was thrilled to get a call from her so late at night. With House gone, she never got to put in extra hours, money was short.

**_11:00_**

There was one nervous and hopeful Lisa Cuddy at House's doorstep trying to decide whether she should knock, ring the bell or call him from her cell phone. She didn't want to intrude, except she did. That's why she was there.

Before she could decide, he opened the door unaware of her presence up until that point.

There he was. He looked older, although it had only been six months. He looked different, his expression was lighter, but the same deep stare from his icy-blue eyes assured her that he was in there.

There she was. Same face, same body. Was it possible that she was even more beautiful than he remembered? The sudden fear that she wouldn't be as loving as he remembered made him take a step back.

"Is that your way of saying I should come in?" She said.

He was nervous. She was invading his personal space. She was already in, didn't even wait for his answer.

He needed time to prepare himself to go back to his old life, that's why he didn't go straight to the hospital that day. He was scared of what he would find.

She was nervous. Her fear was that he'd be ashamed of what happened, ashamed of the vulnerability he showed her when he told her he was not okay; scared of the secrets that were revealed that very morning in his room at Mayfield. Secrets about their past that lingered in her memory for those six months with only one word wrapping them: why?

She was scared for her as well, the words she said to him in his room that morning never stopped replaying in her head. She had actually put her heart inside that envelope with the letter and told him he could do whatever he wanted with it. And she did it knowing she would have to spend six months waiting for any kind of response. It wasn't like he had any decision to make, she didn't propose anything. She was just scared what it would do to their relationship.

"How have you been?" She asked, trying to sound casual. It sounded ridiculous, though.

"Oh, just terrific! You should try spending some time there, it's so relaxing…"

He indeed was back.

She said nothing, she was out of practice. Didn't know how to engage in those talking games with House anymore.

"How did you manage to keep your hospital together without your top diagnostician?"

She wanted to say it had been the worst six months of her life. She couldn't.

"I gave our head of the Legal Department a couple of weeks off."

She was back too.

"I'm serious, House. How was it?" She was actually caring.

"It was hell." His expression turned serious. His face couldn't hide the sadness.

Her heart was cut in half. It brought back the memory of those six months hating herself for not being able to help him. That was death to her.

"I'm sorry you had to go through it alone," she said, guilt taking over her.

"I wasn't alone."

"Amber doesn't count." Oh, now I don't count, but if it weren't for me he'd never have gotten out of that damn bus and might still be in a coma until today. That bitch never liked me anyway.

"Oh, I'm not talking about her."

House knew how to play hard to get when he wanted to. She was trying to apologize and he just wouldn't let her.

"All I'm saying is I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. Sorry I couldn't see what was going on before and sorry I couldn't see you through your treatment at Mayfield. They wouldn't let us visit and…"

"You were there for me." _In more ways than you could imagine_, he wanted to say. Never did. I think I taught him a few things about those kinds of confessions.

She did know what he meant but was afraid to ask more.

They were testing the boundaries of their relationship. Slowly stepping towards each other and back, trying to understand where they were at. It was a nice conversation, filled with underlying meaning to all of it. He told her about those six months, mostly the fun parts, people he met, pranks he played, white lies he told the doctors. She pretended to be only listening. Her ears were, but her mind was racing, trying to savor that moment. He was there talking to her. He was vicodin free and a lot healthier.

The most significant things that happened during that night happened inside their heads and hearts. They never talked about them, the past or the future. Only took their time to enjoy each other's presence after so long, knowing that next morning things would be back to the way they had always been.

"I should go." She said smiling peacefully, mentally gathering the pieces of her heart that were scattered all through his apartment to go home.

"You shouldn't."

"I… want to go then."

"No, you don't."

She said nothing.

"Come on, you know you missed me." She knew.

"I can't stay here, House. I can't sleep in these."

"I think I have something that suits you."

"I'm not sleeping in one of your shirts." She knew she wouldn't be able to shut her eyes smelling him all around her.

"Did I say that?"

"Well, then I'm not sleeping in one of your hooker's outfits."

"So that means you are staying?"

"I…"

"I'll be right back," he said disappearing into the hallway and leaving her confused.

When he came back he tossed a piece of cloth at her.

"You can sleep in that. I think it still fits you." And there it was. Her heart in the form of a shirt that he had kept hidden in his drawer for twenty years.

"I spent months looking for this!"

"Thank God I stole a shirt. Had it been a pair of pants, you wouldn't be able to wear it now giving how huge your ass has…"

"Give it a rest, House."

"Come on, you haven't heard one clever remark about your ass in six months!"

She rolled her eyes at him. It irritated her that he knew she actually had missed him staring at and talking about her ass. She had missed him every day. There were not enough shoe stores in New Jersey to help her through it.

She didn't show it.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well, Wilson is too much of a gentleman to do it. Chase would lose his balls if he did, you have no idea how jealous Cameron is. Taub is not tall enough to look at your tush from the best angle. I know Foreman always wanted to be like me, but I think 13 would be a safer bet. But she wouldn't do it in public. Let's see, maybe in your office…" He was imagining it now. That was actually my favorite side of his personality.

She paused for a moment.

"Oh, that reminds me… I hired that private investigator of yours to help me on some business…"

"Seriously?"

"Yes." She had a smirk on her face.

"Seriously?"

"No, House!" She rolled her eyes again.

She could see his expression relax.

"That's really a 'no' then."

"Yes."

"Yes, it's a 'no' or yes, yes?"

"Dear God, lighten up, will you? No one has been talking about my ass ok? And don't try to change the subject. Why are you giving me this shirt now?"

"Well, doctor said I needed to get rid of some old things. Since I can't get rid of you, because I'd be out of a job, the shirt will have to do."

Oddly enough, either the remarks were about her ass, her breasts, her age or her skills as a doctor, she really liked them. It was all foreplay.

"Care to explain how my shirt got into your closet in the first place?"

"Haven't you figured that out by now? I snuck into your dorm on my last night at Michigan. I wanted to kidnap you, but you were sleeping so soundly I decided to take the shirt instead."

"That's when you found…"

"The letter."

"Thief," she fired.

"Coward," he fired back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You never gave me the letter!"

"You were never supposed to read it."

"I believed it had my name on it and I'm quite sure I was the only Greg who's name you screamed the night before, but you never know…"

"Don't be so sure." She said with a smirk.

"Whore."

"Lunatic."

They both sighed.

"It's good to have you back." She said finally.

"You mean because now I can get back to work and make your hospital worth something?"

"It's good to have you back."

"You mean because now you finally have someone to stare at your ass again?" He was pushing it. Like he always had been. Looking for proof that she indeed cared for him. Never considering himself worthy of it.

"It's good to have you back. Deal with it."

She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Then left him there to dream about her while she would go home to dream about him, this time happier because next morning he'd be there to brighten up her day.

House watched her leave, his favorite thing on earth moving from side to side and he went back inside a little more confident to face the journey ahead of him.

He paused by a small mirror next to the door and saw her lipstick stain on his cheek. Again. Only this time it was real. This time he felt it.


End file.
